


Pride Is Not the Word I'm Looking For

by RedBerrie



Series: The Hamil-ABO 'Verse [6]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Gen, Just 1k Words of Fluff, Naming Baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 05:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10678191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedBerrie/pseuds/RedBerrie
Summary: “Have you given any thoughts to what you're going to name him?”“Actually ...” Thomas began, then grinned at Alexander. “You tell him.”George meets the newest Jefferson baby. It's cute.





	Pride Is Not the Word I'm Looking For

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OnarchyAnarchy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnarchyAnarchy/gifts).



> Requested by OnarchyAnarchy
> 
> This is my shortest work to date, by far. But there was no more story to tell, and I didn't want to pad it unnecessarily, and minimize some of the emotion of the scene. I hope you enjoy it!

George didn't like hospitals. Which was silly, he knew; nobody liked hospitals. They were places of death and suffering, and smelled like a mixture of pain, blood, despair, and chemical cleaners. They were where you went when you were out of options.

Fortunately, the maternity ward was different. Instead of the normal miasma of smells, obstetrics smelled like baby powder, incredible joy, and the unique smell of _baby_. And, yes, chemical cleaners and blood and pain; but it was a life- _giving_ sort of pain, not a life- _taking_ kind. The watery blood that came with birth, not the deep blood of a mortal wound. There was very little death here.

Although, as the President looked down at his former Treasury Secretary, he had to keep reminding himself of that. Alexander Jefferson looked like he had just survived a stabbing, not giving birth.

“The doctors say that he's fine, that he'll make a full recovery,” Alexander's mate, Thomas Jefferson, informed George. He didn't seem that sure of it himself, which George could understand. Alexander's skin was sallow and pale, which only served to accentuate the bruise-like rings under his eyes. “This one was bad.”

“Worse than the twins?” George remembered years ago getting a text early in the morning from a panicked Thomas who had awoken to find his mate barely conscious in a pool of blood.

“We knew it was coming this time, so the doctors were prepared,” Thomas replied. “But as soon as the baby was out, he just started pouring blood. They tried manually palpating the uterus? I think that's right? But it didn't work, so they did a partial hysterectomy.”

George sighed. “No more babies,” he stated.

“No more babies,” Thomas wholehearted agreed, and George realized that they'd be having no more either way, hysterectomy or not.

“Three's a good number,” George commented blandly.

“I would have liked an even number, especially with twins,” Thomas mused. “I'm worried that the youngest will feel like the odd man out.”

“Then you adopt,” George pointed out. “Or you train the twins not to alienate their ... brother?” He was pretty sure he had heard Thomas use masculine pronouns for the newest Jefferson.

“Brother,” Thomas confirmed with a smile. “Actually-” But whatever he was going to say was cut short by a stirring from the hospital bed in front of them.

Alexander regarded them both with eyes that were surprisingly bright for someone half dead. He may look like death, he may even feel like it, but the mind in his skull was as sharp as ever. “Sir,” he greeted George. Then pulled back the blanket covering him to the chin to show a beautiful newborn, wearing only a diaper, nestled against his naked chest.

Alexander might not be able to carry a child to term, but damn it if they didn't come out beautifully. This one was cute enough to melt solid rock. Dark skin, halo of curly dark hair, rosy lips puffed out in a little sucking motion. If his parents weren't such prominent political figures, they could make a living plastering his photos all over formula and diaper boxes and whatnot.

“Meet the newest Jeffer _son_ ,” Alexander joked weakly, but with a smirk at the pun.

Thomas rolled his eyes. “The only surprise is that it took him this many years to come up with that pun,” he groused. But there was something fond in the set of his mouth, and the way his eyes softened when they looked down at his mate.

“He's beautiful,” George said truthfully, and reached down to stroke the soft skin along the tiny back. Looking to Alexander first for permission, he leaned down and scented the baby – the strong scent of _Alpha_ came through clearly. “Have you given any thoughts to what you're going to name him?”

“Actually ...” Thomas began, then grinned at Alexander. “You tell him.”

“We've thought about naming him George,” Alexander finished for his mate.

George's hand stilled, resting on the little Alpha's skin, and his eyes never left the baby. “Really,” he commented neutrally.

“Well, you're already the godfather to all our children,” Thomas explained, and it didn't escape George's notice that the newest child was included in that statement, “and you've helped us … so, so much.” Thomas' eyes misted over, and George was remembering the strings he pulled to get as many boots on the ground looking for Alexander when he had been kidnapped and those horrible days waiting for news; was remembering the generous position he had given Alexander as speechwriter, mostly working from home, after the birth of the twins; was remembering all the times he had sent Alexander home early and insisted he spend time with his mate instead of working himself into an early grave.

The baby – Little George, Georgie, Gee, whatever they ended up calling him – stirred under his hand. George realized he could barely see the infant, as his sight had gotten a bit watery. “You do what you think best,” he told the child's parents, gazing down at his namesake through his misty eyes. “But the name suits him.”

Which was how George Hamilton Jefferson came to join the Jefferson family.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I could just see George being the type who gets flustered, gruff, and even frustrated when complimented, but is secretly freaking out inside.
> 
> In other news: I'm having trouble deciding something, and wanted to know if you guys would weigh in. I've been calling Alex the children's mother, for the reasons I've discussed before: he gestated them, he gave birth, in this universe omegas are functional hermaphrodites so words like "father" and "mother" lose all gendered connections. But I've had a few people say that this bothers them, and it occurs to me that it might seem insensitive to those who are trans? Especially because ftm trans can and do get pregnant sometimes, and might be offended by people calling them the "mother" when, in our world, those words _do_ have _very strong_ gendering. So what do you guys think? What is your opinion? Is Alex "mommy" or "papa"?


End file.
